


warm in your love

by uhohcanteen



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Florist TommyInnit, Flowers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Oneshot, Romanticism, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit is Not Okay (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Niki | Nihachu, also i did not forget about the conflict between fundy and ranboo, and his Enderman Tendencies, implied but, it just popped into my mind and then i wanted to write it, i’m in physical and emotional pain, i’ve been listening to slow romance songs all night, or at least implied, really just a glorified prompt honestly, that should be a tag i think, the orphans are fightinggg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhohcanteen/pseuds/uhohcanteen
Summary: In the end, though, it was Tommy- Tommy with his loud and brash front and his tendency to cause violence and his hands that seemed to never stop moving in their quest to spark conflict. Tommy with the way he would soften and quiet in the absence of people around him and the way he admired the world around him in its glory and utmost peace; it was the way that Tommy’s hands were, despite what others may say, nurturing in the most affectionate way, tending to carrot plants around his house and gently repotting Hannah’s rose, lightly brushing at the bottom of the plants roots to loosen the compact soil so he could place it in the dirt to the left of his doors.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 155





	warm in your love

It started with Ranboo.

Ranboo, who, as it turned out, was not too optimistic about the Egg and its connotations, nor the Crimsons- in fact, it quite stressed him out. In order to relieve said stress, he would pick up chunks of grass and place them down as he saw fit; consequentially, grass ended up in the crater of L’Manberg, accompanying the parasitic vines redder than the nether’s deepest crevices that creeped onto the pitifully small recreation of the crater’s old flag.  _ It adds a nice bit of color _ , Ranboo thought to himself as he admired his work,  _like it belongs there_. 

From there, it was Fundy, mocking the enderman hybrid with a bitter bite as he ranted to anyone who would listen, most typically Eret. Flung patches of grass landed on cuts of jagged stone that would crumble in the next rainstorm to strike, and the troubled fox would gaze at it with venomous eyes and confused, swirling thoughts. His companion would always sit by Fundy’s side, a warm hand to his back but electing to say nothing, a presence that was no more helpful in his uncertainty than the reason he came to his old home in the first place.

He missed Ranboo, he would think to himself, but he missed L’Manberg too, and somewhere in the mess between the two ideals he resorted to desecrating the country’s grave whilst mocking his ex friend. Funny how that stuff works out.

In the end, though, it was Tommy- Tommy with his loud and brash front and his tendency to cause violence and his hands that seemed to never stop moving in their quest to spark conflict. Tommy with the way he would soften and quiet in the absence of people around him and the way he admired the world around him in its glory and utmost peace; it was the way that Tommy’s hands were, despite what others may say, nurturing in the most affectionate way, tending to carrot plants around his house and gently repotting Hannah’s rose, lightly brushing at the bottom of the plants roots to loosen the compact soil so he could place it in the dirt to the left of his doors. 

In the dark of night, Tommy would walk to L’Manberg’s crater, the moon and her generous light upon the prime path’s continuation that lead to the cemetery of a country being the only guiding light to his bleary eyes that blinked away the ever persistent nightmares. With the moon’s sweet guidance that softly kissed the pit and the rocky platforms that jutted out, the blond would make his way down into the bottom of the crater, where he would be confronted with the Crimson.

Every night, without fail, Tommy would hack at the vines when his dreams smelled too strongly of gunpowder and copper until his hands were sore and the skies began to flush pink with the glowing promise of a winsome sunrise, and every night he would plant white lilies to take root on grass wedges and honeysuckles to sidle up the flagpole in place of the leech-like tendrils.

In mornings to come, previous residents of L’Manberg would come to a stop at the newfound paradise, where daffodils and large stocks of gladiolus would sway in the slight draft of the pit, bathed in warm sunlight and the love of an anonymous caretaker. With each visit, the span of vibrant colors would grow more and more, with aromatic rosemary and its muted greens and patches of dancing pale yarrow, hues ranging anywhere from an entrancing shade of almost lilac-pink to pure white to buttery yellow, even going to a rich red that gave off a presence so much more calming than that of the Egg’s vines ever could. 

Their mysterious gardener and their green thumb worked efficiently and with care, with new spots of plants springing up as more people brought patches of grass, even going as far to encourage enderman spawning to attempt to prompt the same random placing of the greenery. They were unsure of who they could be, mainly falling to Niki or Puffy, the florists, as their suspects, but Niki had an air of indifference that followed her everywhere- a previous lust for life and an all encompassing love for every new flower and animal she saw gone with Tommy’s return from exile- and Puffy was so curious of where in the world someone had managed to find so much baby’s breath, what with delicate blossoms still intact despite an apparent long trip that they chalked both of them off and an empty list of suspects.

The list stayed empty for weeks, until one day, underneath a tree that was slowly being shaped to mimic a long burned down L’Mantree, lay Tommy, hands stained dark brown with a rusty silver trovel next to them and meticulously stacked large pots in his lap. The shade of the young oak tree’s leaves shielded his pale face from the sun as it rose farther into the sky to mark midday, worn lines marking his face that no one had seemed to notice relaxed into the most peaceful expression they had seen on his face for what must have been a long, long time. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey sexys it is 6 am and it was just announced that i am having a snow day which is good because i did not sleep anyways! i really like romanticizing nature n stuff bc i just think it’s neat and i also think content that implies c!tommy has a soft side is really cool and it would be quite cool to see more of it :]  
> anyways yea so the ending was in fact not meant to end like that but i didn’t know how to continue it because this was where my initial inspiration came to a halt 😞 i figured it out worked well enough as a conclusion so i left it but i am still guilty about it ngl LMFAOO  
> have been emotionally unstable all night and miss my friends and really want to watch ghibli movies with my bestie best friend again but alas : the Rona.. so basically got cuddle blocked by a strain of the fucking sars virus no one hit me up ever


End file.
